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Colonial  Verses 


COLONIAL 
VERSESoe^e 

(MOUNT  VERNON) 

BY  RUTHc^^ 
LAWRENCE  <*>* 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
BRENTANO'S 


COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY  BRENTANO'S 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


TO 

MY  MOTHER 


S04543 


Mount  Vernon 


Colonial    Verses 

MOUNT   VERNON 

Home  of  our  bravest  and  our  best, 

For  thee,  as  for  a  shrine, 
The  pilgrims  of  the  east  and  west 

Eternal  laurels  twine. 
A  hundred  years  of  sun  and  snow 

Have  looked  upon  thine  eaves, 
Have  seen  the  early  blossoms  blow, 

Wept  Autumn's  crimson  leaves. 

The  river,  as  it  slips  along 

To  join  the  distant  sea, 
Chants  loud  and  clear  a  silver  song 

To  forest-land  and  lea. 
9 


It  bears  a  message  from  afar 

Of  cities  strong  and  great, 
Each  safe  beneath  the  guardian  star 

That  smiles  on  every  State. 

Thy  walls  the  Nation's  secrets  hold  ; 

The  dead — who  ne'er  will  die — 
Were  guests  within  thy  halls  of  old, 

But  now  asleep  they  lie  ; 
While  name  and  fame  will  live  for  aye, 

Till  pride  and  power  cease, 
Of  one  who  will  be  writ  alway 

The  first  in  war  or  peace. 


10 


The  Drawing-Room 


THE   DRAWING-ROOM 

Light-hearted  gallant  and  maid 
Here  tripped  a  measure  of  yore, 
Powder  and  patch  and  brocade. 

Here  in  close  converse  they  strayed, 
Bright  were  the  smiles  that  they  wore, 
Light-hearted  gallant  and  maid. 

Mars  came  as  Cupid  arrayed, 
Donning  in  respite  from  war 
Powder  and  patch  and  brocade. 

Cupid  the  warrior  played, 
Having  of  arrows  a  store. 
Light-hearted  gallant  and  maid. 


What  were  the  words  that  you  said? 
What  were  the  vows  that  you  swore? 
Powder  and  patch  and  brocade. 

Sad  that  life's  roses  should  fade  ! 
Sad  that  we  see  you  no  more, 
Light-hearted  gallant  and  maid; 
Powder  and  patch  and  brocade. 


THE   BANQUET-ROOM 

Here  once  fair  garlands  hung, 
Here  once  gay  laughter  rung, 
Here  once  brave  songs  were  sung, 

And  tales  were  told 
Of  how,  by  lucky  chance 
Or  lofty  circumstance, 
Our  Godmother  was  France, 

In  days  of  old. 

Men  spoke  of  field  and  camp, 
Of  dull  suspense,  or  tramp 
Through  evening's  cold  and  damp 

O'er  plain  and  hill; 
Of  how  all  fought,  some  fell — 
Brothers  they  had  loved  well, 
Whose  worth  they  scarce  could  tell, 

Whose  hearts  were  still. 
14 


Anon,  in  lighter  vein, 
They  spoke  in  gayer  strain, 
And  mirth  and  wit  did  reign, 

Until  a  toast, 
To  quell  unwonted  zest, 
To  silence  gibe  and  jest, 
Did  one  and  all  request 

Of  their  grave  host. 

He  rose,  with  gentle  grace, 
A  look  upon  his  face 
That  all  within  the  place 

Could  understand. 
He  held  aloft  his  wine, 
"May  stars  forever  shine 
On  thee  and  all  of  thine, 

God  keep  our  land  ! " 


THE   MUSIC-ROOM 

Nellie  Custis'  spinet, 
And  George  Washington's  flute: 
Ah  !  we  sigh  with  regret 
O'er  the  flute  and  spinet. 
There  are  souls  in  them  yet- 
Though  they  feign  to  be  mute ; 
Nellie  Custis'  spinet, 
And  George  Washington's  flute. 


16 


The   Stairway 


THE   STAIRWAY 

Stairway,  worn  by  the  tread  of  Time, 

The  echoes  around  thee  blending 

Present  and  Past,  in  mingled  chime, 

Sound  clear  and  sweet, 

Like  willing  feet 

Every  morn  to  work  descending. 

Slowly  again  they  upward  climb, 

The  day  and  its  cares  are  ending; 

Pauses — like  broken  staves  of  rhyme — 

In  silence  greet 

The  weary  feet 

Every  night  to  rest  ascending. 


is 


Washington's   Room 


WASHINGTON'S   ROOM 

Silent  we  stand  beside  the  open  door, 
And  all  the  room  beyond  is  bathed  in  light — 
The  golden  sunlight  thou  didst  hail  of  yore  ; 
The   smile    that    kissed    away   the    tears    of 

night, 

And  in  its  touch  God's  daily  promise  bore, 
A  benediction  that  put  care  to  flight 
And  gave   thee   strength  to  face  the  world  ; 

aye,  more, 
That  lit  thy  pathway,  guiding  thee  aright. 

How  many  dawns  thou  didst  to  care  awake, 
Each    dawn    attended  with    new   hopes   and 

fears  ; 

Forever  faithful,  didst  thy  burden  take, 
Praying  that  peace   might   bless   the  unborn 

years, 

20 


And  for  thy  Country  and  thy  kindred's  sake 

Toiled  with  a  patience  that  all  earth  re 
veres  ! 

How  many  nights  thy  heart  did  well  nigh 
break 

To  know  thy  Motherland  was  drenched  with 
tears ! 

And    it  was    here    thou  didst    at    last   find 

rest — 
The  work  was  done,  the  time  had  come  to 

sleep  ; 

The  high,  the  humble,  prosperous,  oppressed, 
One   in   their  sorrow,    o'er    thy    couch    did 

weep. 

Our  ceaseless  gratitude  by  tongues  professed, 
But    in    our    hearts    there    lyeth    still    more 

deep 
A   love,  which   with   our   deeds   we   would 

attest 
To  prove  us  worthy  of  the  trust  we  keep. 

21 


INTERLUDE 

Now  from  the  homestead  forth  we  stray, 
Though    'neath    its    porch    we    fain    would 

linger, 

The  world  without  holds  holiday, 
Touched  by  Dame  Nature's  jewelled  finger. 


22 


The   Garden 


THE   GARDEN 

In  the  garden  every  year, 

When  the  skies  wax  blue  and  clear, 

We  the  Summer's  footfall  hear; 

One  by  one 
Do  the  flowers  re-appear 

'Neath  the  sun. 


Primrose  buds  with  hearts  of  gold, 
Pansies,  bringing  thoughts  of  old, 
Tricked  in  colors  manifold; 

Mallows  tall, 
Gladioli,  brave  and  bold, 

Guarding  all. 
24 


Daffodil,  and  daisy  white, 

With  the  dew  bespangled  bright, 

Quiver  in  a  shy  delight, 

As  they  peep; 
Then  they  close  their  eyes  at  night, 

Fall  asleep. 

There  the  lily  sways  a  queen, 
And  quaint  rosemary  we  glean, 
While  the  hollyhock  is  seen 

With  the  phlox, 
Twixt  the  borders  trim  and  green 

Of  the  box. 


Like  the  lilt  of  distant  streams, 
Records  of  remembered  dreams, 
Echoes  of  forgotten  themes, 

Fill  the  air; 
Calling  us  away,  it  seems, 

Otherwhere. 
25 


Calling  us  to  join  the  throng 

That  in  hope  and  faith  were  strong, 

That  avenged  the  Nation's  wrong 

With  the  sword  ; 
That  to  history  belong 

For  reward. 

They  that  shone  in  grave  debate, 
And  whose  counsel  carried  weight 
With  the  arbiters  of  State, 

Day  by  day; 
They  that  in  the  field  were  great, 

Won  the  bay. 

They  that  strove  to  set  us  free, 
Gave  the  people  sovereignty, 
Bought  for  mankind  liberty, 

Sweet  their  rest; 
For  to  all  eternity 

They  are  blest. 
26 


The  Spinning-House 


THE   SPINNING-HOUSE 

Merry  whirring  of  the  wheel, 

Loud  the  din! 
Twisting,  turning  speeds  the  reel 

Maidens  spin. 

Though  the  task  their  patience  tax, 

They  are  gay; 
Lightly  drawing  threads  of  flax 

All  the  day. 

Half  in  shine  and  half  in  gloom, 

Sit  the  throng; 
With  the  murmur  of  the  loom 

Comes  a  song. 
***** 

28 


In  a  mist  of  smiles  and  tears, 

Hark!    I  vow 
It  still  echoes  through  the  years, 

Hear  it  now! 

Song  of  old,  thy  sacred  strain 

Pray  impart, 
Let  me  hold  thy  sweet  refrain 

In  my  heart. 


BENEATH   THE   TREES 

Beneath  the  trees  at  even-glow 

I  wander,  meditative,  slow, 

Where  courtiers  brave  with  gold  and  lace, 

Befitting  well  the  stately  place, 

Once  gayly  sauntered  to  and  fro. 

On  velvet  turf  by  green  hedge-row 
I  picture  statesman,  scholar,  beau, 
And  dainty  damsel  fair  of  face, 

Beneath  the  trees. 

The  rays  upon  the  dial  show 

How  swift  the  deepening  shadows  grow,, 

The  noble  fathers  of  our  race 

Are  gone,  with  all  their  wit  and  grace. 

They  laid  their  ashes  long  ago 

Beneath  the  trees. 
30 


Washington's   Tomb 


WASHINGTON'S  TOMB 

Would  we  could  coin  for  thee  new  words 
of  praise  ; 

To  call  thee  only  great,  is  meaningless  ; 

Thou  didst  the  woes  of  humankind  re 
dress, 

And  the  blest  standard  of  our  freedom 
raise  ; 

Didst  lead  us  safe  o'er  strange,  untrodden 
ways, 

And  in  thy  life — that  did  all  truth   express — 

Teach  us  thy  cherished  creed  which  we 
confess, 

The  equal  rights  of  men  to  crown  their  days. 
32 


Thou    dost    not    sleep    in    sound    of    city's 

toil ; 

The  din  of  traffic,  murmur  of  the  mart, 
Are  far  away  ;    within  thy  native  soil 
We  leave  thee,  heart  of  honor,  Honor's  heart; 
Not  in  cathedral's  gorgeous  sculptured  gloom, 
But   'neath  thy   much    loved    stars,  a    fitter 

tomb. 


33 


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